


The Traveler

by orphan_account



Series: Wander!verse [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-06
Updated: 2014-07-06
Packaged: 2018-02-07 15:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1904337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Varric likes telling tales. The taller the better. Merrill likes listening. One-shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Traveler

Notes: Due to the similarity in cultures twixt the Qunari and the Klingons, and a difficulty describing what I want, I've inserted the head-canon that the Qunari have a weapon like the bat'leth. I suppose more akin to the Warglaives of Azzinoth from WoW, or the Fae Blades from Kingdoms of Amalur.

Varric loved to tell tales. Even if it was just taking some creative liberties and stretching the truth a bit. But Varric found that the truth often made the best tales, because it was often the weirdest. That didn't stop Varric from telling tall tales, though.

It had started off simply enough, just telling litte white lies to his parents. Then, as he got better and better at it, he became more and more daring. Daring naturally became risqué. It all kind of went downhill from there. It's not that he wasn't capable of telling stories that weren't sordid. They were just the most fun. They got the best reactions out of people. As a story teller, what more can you really ask for?

Daisy always made a good audience. A slightly tipsy Daisy, even more so. She gasped with shock when Varric revealed the twists and turns of a plot, she blushed when Varric made a cunning innuendo. The best part about telling stories to Daisy, though, was that she wasn't just an audience. She didn't just sit back and idly listen. She would ask the appropriate questions and make the appropriate comments.

The very best part about telling stories to Daisy, was when she didn't ask the obvious question. It might have been her Dalish upbringing, or it might just have been her innocence. Sometimes, her questions surprised him. It's not that Varric considered her stupid, he just forgot that she was intelligent. Normally she was so, very, painfully shy. When she asks a question about one of Varric's tales, that later, in retrospect after a few pints alone in his suite, that he has to stumble to answer, it makes him a better story teller. Not that he would ever admit it, of course.

Tonight, almost the whole gang was there. Isabela had been there briefly, but then she had spotted her companion for the night and left. Aveline had also been there briefly, more just to make sure that no-one got into any trouble, and had left when Isabela did. Varric chuckled at that. Theirs was a band of misfits like no other, with or without a certain Rivaini pirate.

Fenris was over in the back of the room, brooding over his ale. Varric wondered why he even bothered coming to these gatherings. Sure, he hadn't lost all his money to Isabela over Wicked Grace or Diamondback tonight, but he was going to lose it all the same over the piss that the Hanged Man called ale. Still, an audience was an audience, and Varric loved to hear himself speak.

And speak he did. Often, and a lot. Tonight he was telling tales that he had gleaned from rumours, mostly, on one "expedition" or another. The subjects were mysterious travellers, and the crazy adventures they got into. No-one knew who they really were, and Varric said as much. That didn't stop him from telling a variety of stories, however. There was one that would have even made Isabela blush.

He didn't put much faith in most of them though, not that he was a faithful kind of guy. No, but he would bet that the weirdest tale, was the truest. That was the tale that he saved for last.

"There aren't that many accounts of the traveler called the Wandering Eye. There is a lot to travel around, and most of it nothing." Varric chuckled. After running around with Hawke the past few years, he knew all too well how much nothing there could be between point A and point B.

"It's said that the Wandering Eye moves as a ghost, only being seen when they want to. It's also said that they can change their appearance at will. They could appear as a grumpy old crone, or as a handsome young dwarf."

Fenris snorted. Daisy shushed him, bless her. Hawke cracked a grin.

"Let me guess, one of these sightings was as a beardless dwarf with more than enough chest hair to make up for it?"

Taking the bait, Varric replied "I'm not saying that I am the Wandering Eye, but I'm not saying I'm not. Not that kind of wandering eye, anyway. I'm faithful to Bianca. But I'm flattered that you consider me handsome, Hawke."

Hawke let out a boisterous laugh that woke up a half-asleep Anders.

"C'mon, I'll take you back to the clinic," Hawke offered. Anders, groggy with sleep and grog nodded.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave as well," Fenris grunted.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you didn't want to hear my story," Varric said, feigning hurt. Fenris just rolled his eyes and stalked off behind Hawke and Anders.

"Well, Daisy, looks like it's just you and me again. Not that I would really mind it being just me, but you're good company. Now, where was I?"

"About how the Wandering Eye can change their appearance," Merrill chimed happily. Bless her. Varric hadn't actually forgotten where he was in his tale, but it was sweet how interested Merrill was.

"Ah, of course. But the few who have been lucky enough to see the Wandering Eye's true form say that they have alabaster skin, not unlike our dear Hawke, except it has an ethereal luminescence to it."

"Varric," Merrill enunciated, "do you mean to tell me that this person glows?"

"Come now, Daisy, where's your imagination? Broody, Blondie, they glow. This Wandering Eye, their eyes are made out of moonlight."

Merrill let out a very unladylike, and un-Merrill-like, snort. Varric put his hands up in protest.

"I'm just telling you the rumours that I've heard. You don't have to believe them. I sure don't. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes! And their hair is as black as the night sky. Even darker than Broody's eyebrows." Varric let out another chuckle.

"But what's even weirder," Varric began with a conspiratorial whisper, "is their weapons. It is said that they were forged from life itself, and tempered with death."

Merrill furrowed her brow and looked at him inquisitively.

"What do you mean? Like, blood magic?"

Varric shook his head.

"I don't think so, Daisy. I think it may be even older than that. The only thing that all the rumours I've heard can agree on, is that the Wandering Eye likes to say 'there are older, and stranger things than spirits' and if that means what I think it means, it means that they've been traveling a long time.

"A sword, of a kind, one in each hand. But the blade extends both ways, and curves around, like those weapons that the Qunari sometimes use. And yes, Daisy, these are supposed to actually glow."

"Oh, that sounds beautiful, even if I don't know the kind of weapon you're talking about."

"The way that the Wandering Eye wields them is meant to be a thing of of beauty. It's as if… as if it's a dance, and the weapons are merely extensions of their arms. What I wouldn't give for the opportunity to see them in action."

Merrill just nodded sagely before offering a mischievous smile.

"Never say never, Varric. You never know. Weirder things have happened."

To that, Varric toasted.


End file.
